Imperfection makes us perfect
by bluecup94
Summary: Johnlock. Sequel to 'Perfect'. John and Sherlock have been together for only a couple of months and it had seemed like everything was going perfectly... But no relationship can survive unscathed.
1. Chapter 1

**Imperfection makes us perfect - chapter one**

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, here we go again…

**A/N -** Oh my gosh! It's back! I'm back! We're back! Hi! I couldn't let this story rest… I got requests for a sequel so I guess… Here I am! It continues a few of the themes from 'perfect' but as I wrapped it up pretty well I'd say this is a pretty loose sequel… From what I've got planned so far (which is very little) it looks like it could get quite angsty but we'll wait and see, I'm also hoping it'll end up longer! Updates will probably be quite slow but I'll do my best, thank you for returning! On with the show…

John stared out of the window of his consulting room with a sigh. The day was dreary and wet, but he couldn't bring himself to go home. It wasn't that things weren't going well between him and Sherlock, in fact that was the problem, things were going _too_ well. They were a few months into their relationship and since Sherlock had got clean of the drugs, they hadn't argued _at all_. John couldn't handle it! It wasn't that he wanted to argue, but the air surrounding them lately had become so superficial. They were tiptoeing around each other, deliberately avoiding an argument, doing anything they could to keep out of each others hair and it was driving him mad. They had hardly touched or talked in the past couple of weeks, if one of them was mad they'd just leave. They both buried themselves in work and used it as an excuse as to why they had no time for each other any more. He could feel an argument brewing, it was like the energy before a storm. It was only a matter of time until one of them snapped and finally just poured out everything that had annoyed them in the previous months, it'd be a bad one. John sighed and signed off the prescription. He couldn't pretend to work any longer, he just wanted to go home…

John took a deep breath and opened the front door. Mrs Hudson immediately popped her head out of her door, looking more than a little frightened.

"Is Sherlock alright, dear?" She asked, John could hear the strain in her voice. He put on a fake smile.

"Yes, he's fine Mrs Hudson." John watched as the landlady bit her lip.

"Are you sure because he's shooting again…" John groaned internally and after flashing a smile at Mrs Hudson rushed up the steps two at a time. He wasn't in the mood for this. John walked as calmly as possible into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. On the wall next to the original smiley face was a newer, smaller smiley face.

"Look John, it's us." Sherlock said simply, waving the gun haphazardly at the wall from the armchair. John closed his eyes and turned to Sherlock slowly.

"Sherlock, was that really necessary?" He asked, his tone wavering slightly under the force of emotions running through him. Sherlock's eyes remained closed.

"I'm bored John." John knew exactly what he meant by that.

"You're blaming me for asking you to quit drugs?" Sherlock's eyes opened slowly and his eyes bore into John's.

"I didn't say that." He stated simply. John grimaced.

"You didn't need to." Sherlock sighed heavily.

"I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying I need things to occupy my time. Drugs did that for me." All the pent up emotion John had been feeling finally came flooding through him and he couldn't stop himself. He slammed the door to the front room and took a few menacing steps forward, Sherlock watched him warily.

"That's not all they did Sherlock and you know it. I don't see why I should be blamed for looking after you! You know, I just _knew_ this was coming. I knew you would blame me, I think that's part of the reason we've been avoiding each other so much. Well, guess what? I am not taking the blame. Not now, not ever. You were fine with getting off of drugs a few months ago, you seemed like you couldn't have been happier. I guess I filled your time at first and now you're bored of me as well huh? It's not my fault that you don't possess a life outside of work. I've tried to get you to socialise, I've tried to get you to have an interest in something that doesn't involve thinking. I've put up with so much from you over the years and I suppose that I was so happy in our relationship at first that I decided to overlook all the imperfections you have and just live in the moment. But I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of your attitude. You act like a spoilt child and just because you're used to getting what you want, using whatever means possible you need to learn that it doesn't always work like that. I can't guarantee that I'll always be around to keep you company, or keep you out of trouble. Neither can Greg and neither can Mycroft. Grow the fuck up. And the sad part is, sometimes I hate it because I am just so in love with you that I can't stay mad, even if you deserve it. I am so god damn scared of losing you that I don't bring it up when something annoys me-"

"I always know when you're angry with me anyway, John."

"Exactly! But you don't stop. You don't refrain from doing it again!" Sherlock stood up in a rush, his frame towering over John's as it so often did.

"You should never have expected me to change for you John! I am who I am and who I have always been and always will be. You should've known that." John took a solid step back and fought the tears gathering in his eyes, all anger washed away to leave only sadness.

"Well I changed for you." John left the room in silence and waited until he was safely deposited in his old room before he let the tears drip down his face. He'd known it would be big, but that was just ridiculous…

Sherlock fought down the lump in his throat. He'd known how frustrated John had been at him these past few months but he'd always made sure they had gone unaddressed. He'd thought that was best, to avoid an argument. Maybe his social ineptitude had got in the way again. Couples had arguments all the time didn't they? That was normal, so why had he been so keen to avoid it? Sherlock felt the veins in his forearm twitch. DAMN! What a perfect time this would be for a fix. He was angry at John, that gave him the right didn't it? It would be… like revenge. Revenge was a normal human emotion wasn't it? And John had made him human, and humans were vulnerable. Sherlock laughed internally as he watched John's previous argument backfire on him in his mind. John had wanted Sherlock to become human, and he had, so now he'd just have to pay the price…

The rush was almost as good as the first time he'd ever done cocaine. His body was so unused to the sensation that it treated him like an amateur all over again. Sherlock stumbled in the alley and fell against the damp brick wall, sliding down against it with the dark shapes of discarded bins and stray cats looming out at him from the darkness. Sherlock wondered why he'd ever given this feeling up. Oh that's right it was… John. The name sent thousands of thoughts, memories and feelings pulsing through him all at once until he settled on anger. That's right, he was angry at John, because John had hurt him and now, he'd gotten him back. It felt good… didn't it? Sherlock wasn't so sure as he watched the dancing shapes in his visions swimming back and forth and felt his mind spinning and stumbling over thoughts that he couldn't control. Maybe such a high dose after being clean for months wasn't the best idea? Sherlock sank down further into the wet patch on the ground and with a stab of fear and guilt realised that his eyes were closing, this wasn't meant to happen…

"Sherlock? Oh for god's sake! Get up. I said GET UP." Sherlock heard the shouting but couldn't open his eyes, something was stabbing his eyes… Sunlight? "You are going to bloody owe me for this one." Sherlock kept his eyes squeezed shut as his body was hefted upwards with a grunt and he was being dragged and placed into something warm and soft, "What are you staring at, just start the car! Hurry." Sherlock felt the world of the unconscious clawing at him again and as much as he tried to fight it, he found it's embrace rather comforting, so he let himself slip back into the blackness…

"Wake up. Here, drink this." Sherlock groaned and opened his eyes. Lestrade did _not_ look happy. "Oh, awake are we? What did you think you were playing at? We get a call at 7 this morning from a frightened young woman saying she'd found a dead man in the alleyway on Baker Street. We turn up and what do we find? You, off your fucking face in a pile of god knows what mess. I take it John doesn't know about this?" Sherlock stopped mid-drink, his eyes widening. John, oh god. "That look says enough. How could you do this to him Sherlock? You've been clean for months now! What did he do to deserve this?" Sherlock fumbled lamely for an excuse.

"We had an argument…" Sherlock's mumble was cut off by a scoff.

"An argument? And that was enough for you to go running back to drugs was it?" Sherlock looked up at Greg sheepishly and Greg sighed, sitting down next to Sherlock on the sofa in his office. Sherlock felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he suddenly realised how cold he was. He was shivering. "Look, I know you're not used to all this, a lot of things have changed for you recently and it's a lot to deal with, I get it. So I'll make you a deal. I'll cover for you, I'll drive you back to Baker Street and tell John we were working together on something and that's why you weren't home but you have to promise me that you won't go and do that again. None of us want to see you like that okay?" Sherlock smiled and winced at the pain in his head.

"Thanks Lestrade." Greg smiled.

"No problem, now I'm not taking you back until you make yourself look at least a little presentable…"

John heard the front door open and close and panicked, if it was Sherlock, he didn't want to see him and if it wasn't, well that meant that Sherlock was in trouble, and he didn't want that either. John rushed to the door to put his dressing gown on and rubbed at his face to make it look less tired and pale, at least make it look as if he slept a little. John went back to sit on his bed and picked up a book. He heard someone moving around in the front room and then heavy footfalls padding towards his door. A soft knock sounded open the wood.

"It's me John, can I come in?" John's brow furrowed and he went and opened the door.

"Greg? What's happened?" John strongly held back the incessant need to ask if Sherlock was okay and just stepped aside to let Greg enter. He closed the door behind him and returned to his seat.

"I just thought you might like to know where Sherlock was last night." John fought down the rising panic coiling in his stomach and managed a nod, "He was with me at the office. I got a case in the middle of the night and I knew Sherlock would be able to solve it in an instant so I got him to come to Scotland Yard. He told me that you two had had an argument?" John tilted his head.

"He told you that? Well yes, we did. I'm not very happy with him to be honest and I don't really think I should be the one to go and apologise… Again. I think I'll just leave him to sleep." Greg hesitated for several moments, looking uneasy.

"Look John, I know it's none of my business but Sherlock was pretty upset about your fight. He doesn't understand people like the rest of us do, sometimes he just needs to be taught a lesson to make him see and then he's fine again. Please just… Think about it." John watched in none-concealed confusion as Greg hastily left the room. He heard the front door open and close about a minute later and flopped back onto his bed, groaning loudly. Now what was he supposed to do?…

Sherlock couldn't get comfortable. The tossing and turning was making his head pound but he'd be damned if he took more drugs, even if they were medicating. Sherlock had made Lestrade a promise, and he would stick to it. Sherlock couldn't get Lestrade's parting words out of his head, 'I know you're mad at each other Sherlock but please… You should have seen the look of terror on his face when I told him he should know where you were last night. I can see that he hasn't slept… Please just… Think about it.' Sherlock turned again and growled. So John was upset, so what? So was he! Maybe this was what John meant about him always getting his own way… No! John wasn't going to manipulate him like that. He did wrong, yes, but he was willing to admit it and John wasn't. John wouldn't own up to his part in all this, he never did. John was equally to blame, John started the argument after all. He'd said some downright horrible things that Sherlock had no way of repelling from his mind, and they kept coming back to him. 'I'm sick of your attitude', his attitude had never changed! Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks, maybe that was the problem. Maybe John just wasn't willing to put up with him any more? Sherlock felt bile rise in his throat, 'I can't guarantee that I'll always be around'… He wasn't leaving was he? He couldn't leave, Sherlock needed him! More than he'd ever needed anyone in his life. He'd been independent until John had come along, and now he just couldn't be alone! He wouldn't allow it! Sherlock's inner turmoil was interrupted by the vibrating of his phone. Sherlock picked it up, the light from the screen nearly blinding him. 'Just apologise to him Sherlock, for gods sake. MH.' Sherlock roared and threw the offensive phone into the opposite armchair, the 'MH' staring tauntingly at him from where it peeked out beneath the sofa cushion. Sherlock dragged his long hands down his pale face and resisted the urge to send an abusive text back to his older brother. It was none of his damn business. He wasn't going to apologise, he absolutely refused.

John couldn't cry any more. He felt so dehydrated and worn out but he wasn't going to the kitchen to get a drink. His face had that horrible crinkly feeling that happened when tears dried on your face, and his tears had been more like a waterfall. He kept having this recurring thought of what Greg might have said instead of 'we were working'. Greg coming in, 'we found Sherlock at a whore house last night', 'we found Sherlock bleeding in an alleyway last night on the verge of death' and most frequently, 'we found Sherlock passed out on the street John, he'd been using again'. John could never live with himself if he'd been the reason for Sherlock's relapse. Luckily that wasn't what Greg said, and Sherlock was fine but John couldn't shake what might've happened if that _is_ what he'd said. I mean it wasn't the most unlikely scenario, and just because it hadn't happened this time that didn't stop it from happening in the future. Maybe John should just go and apologise?… Greg seemed to think it was a good idea after all… No! He wasn't being manipulated like this! He always had to say sorry first, even when he wasn't in the wrong. Okay, John had said some terrible things, things that he had meant but hadn't meant to say and he was wracked with guilt but that didn't stop Sherlock from being in the wrong in the first place. They were equally to blame! But admitting that to himself didn't make this situation go away, or even make it any easier, eventually, one of them would have to get over their pride and hopefully it would be sometime soon.

_Sherlock curled into a tight ball, he'd never felt so vulnerable. He felt warm liquid pooling at his stomach, it was soaking his clothes. It was red. Blood? Sherlock chanced a look up at his attacker._

"_John?" His voice sounded croaky and weak. He hated it._

"_I'm sorry Sherlock, but I need to protect you. You can't go out and get high if you're stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of your life. You'll be pleased to know that my doctor's precision means that I've severed a nerve in your back which connects the upper and lower half of your body, so you'll be paralysed. Shh, shh don't be scared it's okay… I'm just looking after you. It's alright now." Sherlock choked back a sob as John knelt down beside him and started stroking his hair._

"_What have you done?" Sherlock heard John tut._

"_It's not what I've done, this is what you've done. I'm only trying to help. You know the funny thing is, none of this would of happened if you hadn't told me about your relapse. I guess honesty isn't always the best policy huh?"_

"_John… Why did you do this?" John smiled, not warmly, just humourlessly._

"_I've told you, it's for your own good. Sirens, oh good, the ambulance is here. You'll be safe and sound in hospital soon…" The sound of the door below bursting open rang through the empty flat and Sherlock faintly heard Mrs Hudson's shriek. The dark abyss was coming for him again, like it did the previous night but no, he couldn't, not yet…_

"_John Watson, I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder. You don't have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you don't mention now something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be used in evidence against you. But John, I advise you to use your right to remain silent." Sherlock heard Lestrade's voice and the chink of handcuffs and John's protests. Sherlock wanted more than anything to explain, to tell them not to take his John away from him, he didn't mean it, don't make him leave me…_

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and stared at the ceiling. He didn't dream, he never dreamed, let alone have nightmares… It seemed John had changed him more than he'd previously thought. Sherlock didn't even know if John had had a nightmare in the past couple of weeks, Sherlock hadn't slept in the bed with him, he'd stayed awake in the living room a lot of the time. God, he was a really bad partner wasn't he? He didn't even know how to begin changing that, let alone if he wanted to… He supposed the logical answer was to go and apologise. But any qualms he had previously had about whether to tell John about his slip had now well and truly been confirmed, the answer was no. Sherlock didn't care if the dream was just his unconscious fear taking shape, he didn't like it and it simply wasn't going to happen and he definitely wasn't going back on that one…

John tensed involuntarily at the sound of approaching footsteps. The figure had shoes on, he heard the pattering of heels against wood and they were tall, there was a longer gap than average between sounds. It was undoubtedly Sherlock. John would recognise the sound of Sherlock's feet anywhere. John watched as a dark shadow flitted under the door, moving around. A small folded sheet of paper was placed under the door and as John went to pick it up, the footsteps quickly retreated again and went downstairs. John was afraid to pick up the paper, what was it? If it was a note then what the hell did it say? Only one way to find out…

_Dearest John,_

_I am very sorry about all that was said in our argument. I know plenty about torture and believe me when I say that it has been torture not being able to speak with you and hold you. I miss you. But we can't keep avoiding each other forever and this isn't healthy for either of us so I've left the flat for a few hours to give you some time to yourself and I hope that when I come back, you'll be ready waiting for me so we can talk._

_I love you,_

_SH x_

John was so shocked by the contents of the letter. It was so rare for Sherlock to say something sentimental, especially the 'L' word. It was even rarer for him to say it first. John was touched that Sherlock would apologise, and he wished that Sherlock hadn't gone out. He was ready to go and apologise now, and if he was honest with himself, as much as he'd tried to deny it, he'd missed Sherlock's comforting embrace just as much. His bedroom had been alien to him and so cold without Sherlock beside him. John lifted himself off the bed and got up to go and shower and prepare himself for Sherlock's return. They would finally be sitting down and talking, the thing they should have been doing for weeks. They'd finally be back to normal! It was all just a matter of time…

Sherlock paced and deduced, and paced and deduced some more. Finally, he'd had enough, he couldn't stand it any longer, he had to see if John was willing to forgive him. Sherlock knew that if he was then he'd already be waiting and if he wasn't then leaving it another half hour or so wouldn't make the blindest bit of difference. Sherlock tried to walk slowly back to Baker Street but this proved difficult for two reasons, firstly, because he was so desperate for John's forgiveness and secondly, his ridiculously long legs. Sherlock damned his rapidly beating heart as he put his key into the lock, he took a deep breath and stepped into the hall.

Sherlock calmed his pace as he ascended the stairs, the door to the front room was open in front of him. Sherlock entered the front room and smiled. John was sat in the armchair, casually reading the Sunday papers and oh hot damn, he was wearing _that_ jumper. That beautiful navy blue sweater that just clung wonderfully to John's frame, hugging all the right places. If this was some kind of tease on John's part, then it was in incredibly bad taste! Sherlock stood for several moments just watching John and fighting down the urge to be very forward.

"Sherlock, I'm really glad you're home. I've been waiting for you." Sherlock smiled and took off his coat and scarf and went to sit on the sofa.

"Look John-" John held up a hand.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I shouldn't have exploded like that, I guess we just haven't had enough time to sit down and talk about things in recent weeks." Sherlock nodded.

"I agree. So that's why I've been thinking…" Sherlock paused and shifted in his seat, he noticed John unconsciously lean in towards him, that was a promising sign, "We need to set down a time each week to just sit down and talk. Just us, no distractions. I don't want us to run from each other any more John, we're going to keep arguing if we don't make time for each other, even my socially inept self knows that. So what do you think?" John beamed a beautiful smile.

"That sounds like a good plan for once, I'm very proud of you." Sherlock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"How about we start right now? Come here." Sherlock opened his arms out and was delighted when John looked only too happy to get up and climb into them, Sherlock wrapped his arms around the smaller man and felt the usual elevation in heart rate, "So what's been happening at work? You've been busy." John gave a nervous laugh.

"Not as busy as I've had you believe but yes…" John paused and sighed heavily, Sherlock had a feeling this would be a worry of John's that he wouldn't understand.

"What's happened?" John looked up into Sherlock's expectant face and Sherlock tried his best reassuring smile, "Come on John, I'm here to listen to you, for once."

"It's just, I've had to see Eva a lot these past few weeks, I'm really worried about her." Sherlock tried his hardest to recall what it was that John was talking about, but came up blank. With the utmost reluctance he asked:

"Eva?" The disapproving look he received stung, but was probably deserved. He needed to learn to actually listen to people more often, or John at least.

"Remember that patient that I had with the recurring nightmares and insomnia? You suggested she go for psychoanalysis?"

"Ahhh yes, Eva. The analysis isn't working so she was sent back to you? Because these things take time…" John shook his head against Sherlock's shoulder.

"No, she's still in analysis. She was transferred to an asylum, she became a danger to herself, and her family didn't know how to deal with her. She was self harming and attempting suicide every other day. Lord knows I don't agree with asylums but at least she is being cared for properly." Sherlock frowned.

"If she's not in your care then why do you keep going to visit her?" John hesitated long enough for Sherlock to know that he was hiding something.

"Unlike some people Sherlock, I actually care about my clients. I don't know, I just feel like it's my duty to keep checking on her. She doesn't get any other visitors, her family have practically disowned her."

"That's awful…" Sherlock wasn't sure how he was meant to respond. There was another long moment of silence.

"You know, she wants to meet you." Sherlock couldn't contain his surprise.

"Me? Why? You haven't been telling tall tales about me again have you John?" John chuckled and placed a kiss on the side of Sherlock's neck.

"Maybe a few… I didn't realise but she reads my blog and then I told her how you decoded her dream and about the work you do and she's very interested in talking with you." Sherlock bit his lip.

"John, I don't know if…" John raised a hand and placed it on Sherlock's clean shaven jaw.

"I know. You're not a people person. I have told her, but she asked me to ask you just to think about it. She's a very reasonable and clever girl, she understands." Sherlock felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards this unknown girl. She sounded very mature, sensible and intelligent. Damn, John knew exactly how to manipulate him. But he couldn't bring himself to be mad at him so soon after getting him back.

"I will think about it, I promise." John shuffled to slide down further against Sherlock and Sherlock was again taunted by that infuriatingly sexy patch of John's hip that became exposed when he moved.

"What about you? How's your work been?" Sherlock smiled.

"Lestrade hasn't needed my skills all that much recently, I think he's finally completed his training." John gave Sherlock a playful slap but laughed anyway.

"Well I suppose that's good, so what have you been working on instead?" Sherlock's eyes glinted.

"I've been noticing some interesting patterns of crime being reported in the papers so I've been keeping an eye on it and going out undercover to get as much information as possible. It's my belief that whoever the offender is, he's nearly ready to take it up a level."

"Murder?"

"Yes, and not just one if I'm correct. And let's face it, I am." John shook his head and chuckled.

"I'd love to be able to refute that but there'd be no point."

"Oh I quite agree John. I'm glad you have finally realised." Sherlock's heart sped up at the smirk he received. John leant his head up and put his lips close to Sherlock's ear.

"If you're not careful Mr Holmes, I might just wear this jumper every, single, day and choose to abstain from sex at the same time." Sherlock shivered and closed his eyes, letting John's low tone wash over him.

"Please don't, John." Sherlock's eyes snapped open, he hadn't meant to say that… Nor had he meant to sound so _needy_. John sat back with a triumphant smirk. He leaned in and kissed Sherlock aggressively.

"Luckily though, I _didn't_ threaten that, so bedroom, _now_." Sherlock felt a familiar stirring in his groin and couldn't obey quick enough. He stood up abruptly and started striding from the room, kicking off his shoes as he went. He didn't care how weak he looked in that moment, John in that sweater had created a very prominent problem down below and it wasn't going to sort itself so… He could accept being dependent on John for once.

**A/N:** **Haha, thought you were getting smut this chapter did you? NOPE! Mwahaha, I'm evil… If I'm honest, I just wanted to ease myself back into the story. It will come… See what I did there? There's a reason I'm not a comedian. Anyway, please R&R my lovelies, much love to all my readers and I'm glad to be back!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Imperfection makes us perfect - chapter two**

**Disclaimer:** Characters no mine =( But I most definitely wish they were… Oh the things they would do…

**A/N:** Quick note, let's just say that Sherlock wakes up very happy… But it doesn't get too far. Just… Just read =')

John slowly awakened with a yawn. For several moments, he lay in bed confused. Where was he? This wasn't his room… Did he fall asleep and was this a dream? As his brain began to engage it dawned on him and he smiled. He was back in Sherlock's bed, no, _their_ bed. He was in his favourite place, wrapped securely in Sherlock's thin arms. It didn't get better than this…

"Good morning John." Apparently it did, there was Sherlock's morning voice.

"Good morning Sherlock." John placed his hand on Sherlock's bare chest and gently traced light patterns on the pale flesh.

"I wouldn't…" Sherlock's gravelly voice broke through John's daydream and he beamed.

"Why not?" He asked. John resisted the urge to squeal and giggle like a little girl as Sherlock quickly rolled so that he was on top of John, his head tilted casually to the side. He leant his head down so that their naked bodies were pressed flush against each other and his mouth was ghosting over the shell of John's ear.

"Because I may just have to punish you…" John's breath hitched in his throat, it was rare for Sherlock to talk like this and it got John every single time.

"Somebody's happy this morning…" He commented, trying to keep his tone light. He was more than aware that Sherlock would see straight through him. Sherlock placed a wet kiss under John's ear and smiled against the skin beneath his lips.

"What can I say? I had the best night's sleep I've had in weeks." John recognised the subtext of the comment and felt a rush of warmth flow through him. He brought a hand up to gently guide Sherlock's lips towards his own and kissed him languidly but thoroughly, letting his tongue re-explore all the crevices of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock sighed and it reverberated pleasantly against John's tongue, "You've left me no choice. I'm going to have to punish you now… You just can't help yourself can you?" Sherlock pulled away from John's mouth and began trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. John was very disappointed to find that Sherlock was interrupted in his ministrations by the sound of the doorbell. He growled loudly - and in John's opinion enjoyably - in response.

"Whoever it is can sod off." John raised an eyebrow but Sherlock ignored him, swirling his tongue around John's pulse point for several seconds until a knocking came, on the bedroom door this time.

"Look Sherlock, and John, I'm very sorry but it's important." Sherlock huffed loudly and John had to refrain from laughing at the pout on his face.

"It had better be fucking good Lestrade. And you owe me, and John." John heard Greg sigh dramatically.

"Yes, yes, just _get dressed_. And there's no time for a cold shower so… Just imagine Anderson in his underwear." John watched in utter amusement as Sherlock's face screwed up in pure disgust.

"You are an absolute animal detective. I'll be with you in a minute. And could you be so kind as to wait on the living room, this is starting to get a little creepy." John heard Greg's footsteps die away before Sherlock removed his weight and stood up, rooting around for clothes.

"One of these days you'll learn what a wardrobe is for." John said. Sherlock waved his hand dismissively.

"It's of no importance." He replied. John held in a laugh, Sherlock was _really_ pissed off. John decided he'd best get up and dressed as well, otherwise Greg could end up with more than he'd bargained for. Besides, it wasn't like John had anything better to do and he hadn't been on a case in a while. John picked up the nearest clothes to him and was about to put them on when he heard:

"No!" John turned to see Sherlock pointing at him menacingly. John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion until it dawned on him what he had picked up. The navy blue jumper. John turned away with a smile, swapping the jumper for a shirt when he heard a loud groan. He turned back round with an unamused face.

"What now?" He asked impatiently. Sherlock looked like a kicked puppy.

"That one's hardly better!" He whined. John exhaled loudly.

"So what would you suggest I wear, hmm? Nothing?"

"Yes. No, wait, that wouldn't solve anything…" John shook his head.

"Well, you do have a _case_ to solve. So I'm putting the shirt on Sherlock. Now hurry up, Greg's waiting."

Sherlock felt at least a little satiated by the fact that he had one up on Lestrade by already knowing why he was there. Sherlock strode into the living room, picked up a cup of ready made tea (Lestrade had known him for how many years? How difficult was it to get it right?) and sat on the sofa.

"Let me guess… This is about the murder in which a Shakespeare quote was left at the crime scene." Lestrade's mouth opened wordlessly and Sherlock saw John roll his eyes in his peripheral vision. It wasn't Sherlock's fault… Lestrade should be used to him being brilliant by now, Sherlock didn't know why he was still surprised. Lestrade cleared his throat.

"Well yes, how did you know about that?" Sherlock smirked.

"I've been watching the pattern of crime for a while, there have been other, less serious crimes if you like, in which a Shakespeare quote is always left. But I suppose you wouldn't know that, not your division after all…" Lestrade puffed out his chest in an unsuccessful attempt to regain some dignity and control.

"Yes, alright Sherlock. What sort of crimes?" Sherlock sipped his tea.

"A couple of cases of rape. One or two of GBH…"

"GBH?"

"Yes, apparently interrupted. My guess from what I've seen is that he was going for murder but was stopped short. The victims were either found with a quote written on them or somewhere on their person or the people were threatened and forced to say it to the police when they went to report the crime. So what are we looking at?" Lestrade blew air out of his cheeks and sat back in his chair.

"Murder of a young man, late 20's. John Doe at the moment. Found in an alleyway off Fleet Street. Appears quite wealthy, from what we can see so far." Sherlock pursed his lips and pressed his fingertips together.

"And the quote?" There was a pause as Lestrade reached into his pocket for his notebook. Sherlock chuckled, "The detective does not know his Shakespeare I see." Lestrade flashed an unamused smile and cleared his throat.

"'I thank my fortune for it, my ventures are not in one bottom trusted, nor to one place; nor is my whole estate upon the fortune of this present year: therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad.'" Lestrade snapped the notebook closed and Sherlock smiled coyly.

"Spoken like a true thespian, with a passion that they do not possess. Now let me see… The Merchant of Venice, spoken by the Merchant himself at the start of the play. Well, that is not much to go on. Shall we proceed to the crime scene?" Lestrade bowed mockingly.

"As you wish."

Sherlock leant low over the body and sniffed. Esters on the breath, he'd been drinking. Well kept nails and hands, not a manual worker. A job that requires good first impressions. The stench of bad aftershave but probably expensive, meterosexual and by inference, well off. Sherlock got up.

"Yes, all as I expected at first glance. Where's the briefcase?"

"Back at Scotland Yard with the rest of his belongings." Sherlock sighed deeply.

"How many times do I have to tell you, do not touch the crime scene! Where was the quote written?" Lestrade hesitated and scratched his neck awkwardly.

"It was written on a £50 note and stapled to the victim's forehead." Sherlock's eyes widened fractionally and then narrowed, Sherlock felt John's hand on his arm and shrugged it off.

"And why, may I ask, was it removed?" He asked lowly but menacingly. Lestrade coughed.

"It was attracting a lot of public attention." He answered lamely.

"Sometimes you really try my patience, Lestrade." Lestrade scoffed and Sherlock sent John a withering look as he chuckled quietly to himself, "John, be quiet." Sherlock watched in fascination as something glinted in John's eyes and all tension floated away, knowing that he was about to become very proud of his lover. Sherlock knew that John only wore that look when he was about to do something devious.

"And what if I don't? I suppose you're going to have to _punish_ me for being _bad_ aren't you? I'm sure DI Lestrade could probably do with his spare handcuffs back Sherlock." The look on Lestrade's face was absolutely priceless and Sherlock beamed in triumph as John winked at him from over Lestrade's shoulder. Sherlock sent him an appraising look, hopefully conveying just what sort of reward he'd be getting for that comment. Ironically the same sort that Lestrade had so thoughtlessly interrupted in the first place. Sherlock clapped his hands together.

"Well, I think I've seen all that I can see, as it appears that most of the evidence has been removed." At least Lestrade had the decency to look sheepish, but Sherlock was sure it was faked to avoid further implicative and vindictive comments about his and John's sex life.

"Okay, well, we should get back to the Yard, there's lots of work to do…" Greg looked like he couldn't leave fast enough…

Sherlock was now gleeful to say the least. Sherlock was pitifully aware that all John had had to do was mutter a suggestive comment at him and he now looked like all his Christmases had come at once. He strode into the evidence room at Scotland Yard looking even more superior than usual.

"We're about to have the evidence brought up now Sherlock, but you'll have to pick three items at a time or study everything down here because new regulations have been placed on monitoring of evidence." Sherlock growled and put a hand to his head.

"Why do you people insist on making catching criminals harder for everyone involved? No wonder you always need my help to solve cases." He began rooting through evidence bags roughly and picked out the victim's iPhone, his wallet and his laptop, "I take it these have been searched?" Sherlock saw John wince at his waspish tone but Lestrade seemed unaffected.

"Yes, but gloves were used and I made sure to leave everything exactly as it was, right down to the last penny." Sherlock allowed the patronising tone to bypass him without further comment and nodded curtly.

"Good, you have the makings of a great detective yet." Lestrade kept his face stony.

"So I've been told…"

John watched Sherlock work in silence. His attention to detail was amazing, he would occasionally point something out loud, whether to cement or to actually keep the detectives up to date with his findings was unclear. Occasionally, Sherlock would stop working and look up to the ceiling, before giving a minute nod and carry on, it was fascinating to say the least. Suddenly. Sherlock beckoned to John with his finger, keeping his eyes focused on the laptop in front of him. John went to sit down beside him and looked expectantly at him.

"Hear me out. This man, Ethan Hodgkin. He was a drunk. At first I thought that perhaps the attacker found him drunk by chance, and simply used that to his advantage. But now, I realise that was wrong. There are spreadsheets on his laptop working out his financial income and outgoings. He was a solicitor as I suspected. You see here, you have the usual payments like bills, food shopping etc. but it's quite clear that the figures don't add up, there are thousands of pounds unaccounted for between the income and outgoings. What does that suggest? He's ashamed of where the money is going." John furrowed his eyebrows.

"But how do you know it's alcohol? And if this is his own private spreadsheet then why would he leave off something he was embarrassed about?" Sherlock smiled.

"It's alcohol because it all correlates. I'll be able to confirm it via the post mortem but there are signals very much like those I mentioned about your sister Harry and her phone. There is also some evidence on the laptop's keyboard, see how some of the keys are stuck together, and only a drunk person could be so careless as to spill food or drink on such an expensive, and obviously relevant object. Now, we know that Ethan clearly is not a family man, there is no evidence in his outgoings of any extra people living with him, nor of any random payments for gifts or such like. But, my deductions as to why there is no evidence of drinking on the records is primarily denial. In such a highly respected job as solicitor it does not do to admit to weaknesses such as drinking so first and foremost, when he is sober, he refuses to acknowledge that he drinks excessively. But secondly, there are several irregularities here on the spreadsheets, for example where it says that his phone bill was paid in May of this year, but not in June which we know is preposterous and there are occasions where drinking is mentioned fleetingly on the records so he is filling it in whilst drunk. So my bet is that the alcohol has damaged his brain to such an extent that a lot of the time, he simply can't remember how much it is that he has had to drink, and so combined we find a lot of evidence lacking. But we can clear those points up tomorrow. Now, the question is, how did the attacker know he was a drunk? And which point of call is the important one for motive? Is it because of a personal reason, unlikely. This man is clearly highly trained and would never let himself be caught in that way. Is it because Ethan is rich? Perhaps. Is it because he is an alcoholic? Also possible. From what I've pointed out about previous convictions I'd suggest it was the former but I can't be sure…" John watched as Sherlock signalled to Lestrade, who came over promptly.

"What did you find?"

"I'm afraid that there is not much to go on at the moment. I can tell you more after I examine the body and clothes at St. Bart's tomorrow. But I am almost certain that I won't catch him before he kills again. I don't have enough concrete evidence." Lestrade sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"So we have to let at least one more innocent person die before you can even get a lead?" Sherlock smiled indulgently.

"These people aren't innocent in the eyes of the killer. And yes, this isn't an amateur. He's a highly organised killer that has been biding his time for the right opportunities. The more times he kills, the more patterns I can look for and the more likely I'll be to know where he'll find his next opportunity. If you don't like the way I work then you can always find someone else." Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"It's not that I don't like the way you work, I'm just slightly concerned that if you aren't able to find any leads, then there's no knowing how intelligent this guy is." John smiled at Sherlock's clearly inflated ego by the back handed compliment.

"Oh no, I'll get him. It's all just a matter of time."

John didn't want to disturb Sherlock's contemplative silence while they travelled in the cab on their way back from Scotland Yard. John had never seen Sherlock so uncertain of a lead to follow in all of his life.

"There are plenty of deductions I can make about the victim, but about the perpetrator I haven't got much to go on. The killer is more than aware of what he's doing, all previous cases involving him have gone unsolved… I'll have to remember to look up the case files on them and see what was found." John jumped in surprise as Sherlock's head snapped up, his eyes wild, "I want to see Eva." John tried to contain his shock at the sudden request.

"You do? Now?" Sherlock nodded.

"Yes." John smiled and carefully took Sherlock's hand in his own, resting them lightly on the seat between them.

"I'm really glad you said that…"

John could not contain his disgust at the massive grey building looming out at them from the road ahead. Secure units never looked welcoming, and John thought that that was wrong. The cab pulled up in front of the faceless brick and John watched Sherlock shiver.

"Are you okay?" John asked worriedly, he could see anxiety prickle in Sherlock's eyes even though his face remained passive.

"Yes, I just don't like hospitals much, especially mental wards." John had no time to question him further but couldn't help worry flowing through him that Sherlock took his hand before striding inside. John had never seen Sherlock looking this uncomfortable before, and it was a scary sight. The nurse at the desk nodded to John, she had given up asking John to sign in and out weeks ago, instead just filling in the sheet herself. John led Sherlock over to the lift, debating whether to bring his anxiety up or not.

"Sherlock, you don't have to see her-"

"No John, I want to see her. I'm absolutely fine." John decided not to mention his perspiring forehead or the slight tremble of his long hands clasped tightly around John's own. It wouldn't do to agitate him further.

"Okay… Do you want me to stay with you?" Sherlock offered John a rare genuine smile.

"No, we'll be fine on our own." They travelled the rest of the way to Eva's room in silence, and when they reached Eva's door Sherlock abruptly removed his hand, bent down to give John a chaste kiss and knocked on the door, entering with Eva's permission, and without John's company…

Sherlock couldn't deny that the setting brought back a lot of memories that he'd thought he had removed. Sherlock wished he'd had better control of his emotions in front of John, he wouldn't be able to escape the questions later and John could easily sidestep his distraction attempts now that he knew him so well. Sherlock smiled at the girl sitting on the bed, she was watching him curiously, her long golden hair glinted in the sunlight. She had the religious aura about her.

"You are Sherlock Holmes." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I am very pleased to meet you Eva." Eva smiled knowingly.

"John told me that you wouldn't come, but I knew he was wrong." Sherlock stepped further into the room and stood straight, hands folded behind his back.

"And how did you know that?" Eva tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her nose.

"I had a hunch." Sherlock watched Eva's face for several minutes, waiting for the signal he knew was coming. After several seconds her eyes darted unconsciously to look down to the side of her.

"Whatever it is you have hidden under your mattress Eva, you don't have to hide it from me. I'm not a doctor and I won't judge you. I'm here to visit you, I've heard a lot of interesting things about you."

"And I about you… John talks about you all the time. You know, you are rather a mismatched couple." Sherlock gave a small smile, he was starting to like this girl already.

"What makes you say that?" Eva smiled back.

"For one, how open John is with emotion. Perhaps not open verbally, but his body language is very expressive. That's how I knew you were in a relationship in the first place. I've never seen him smile like he does when he talks about you… That's one of the reasons I was so intrigued to meet you." Sherlock chuckled and pulled up the horrible plastic chair besides Eva's bed, flopping down into it casually.

"And the other reason is?" At this Eva leant forward, her eyes lighting up.

"I've read John's blog, I've read what you can do. Meeting someone like you is a once in a lifetime opportunity." Sherlock processed her answer for several seconds before leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingertips together.

"I think the same can be said about you. I think John underestimates you Eva. He lets his emotions get in the way of seeing people for what they really are as so many humans do." Eva smirked.

"And what is it that I really am, Mr Holmes?"

"Call me Sherlock, please. You are a very intelligent young woman. You have insight, more insight than a lot of people I know. You own some very unique qualities." Eva appraised Sherlock for several seconds before leaning back against the pillows and relaxing her body slightly.

"So unique that many people do not understand me. I'd say that's one of the main reasons I am in here. I get treated like I am insane when in reality I am just different." Sherlock felt a stab of pain in his heart as another memory floated to the forefront of his mind. He pushed it out and forced a smile.

"I used to feel the same. But being different does not make self harm and suicide attempts okay…" Something glinted in Eva's eyes.

"There are many forms of self harm Sherlock. Some are just more socially acceptable than others." Sherlock felt the track marks burn on his forearm. He had only ever felt this exposed in front of Mycroft, and Mycroft was at least his brother.

"I already knew that we would be quite alike, that is why I agreed to see you. I'm not sure John can see the similarities." Eva closed her eyes.

"As you say, John is sentimental and primarily doctorial. When he visits he doesn't focus on who I am, just how I am coping and trying to make me feel less alone. It's not that I don't appreciate it, because I do but he doesn't quite understand." Sherlock gave a sad smile, he wasn't about to admit that he knew exactly what she meant.

"So Eva, I was thinking you might like to hear about the new case I have been assigned to." Eva cracked one eye open and looked at him suspiciously.

"Seriously? It's just, I'm not usually told about what's going on in the outside world. It might 'delay my treatment'." Sherlock laughed aloud at the obvious sarcasm.

"I have never understood the mentality of mental health professionals. They believe that by infantilising the patients that that will help them recover? I do not believe so. You aren't sick Eva, you are just in need of some extra care. In my opinion, keeping up with the outside world can only be a good thing when you are being kept so far from it." Eva opened her eyes and stared levelly at Sherlock.

"Well, you talk a lot more sense than a lot of the patronising staff out there, that's for sure. So, this case?" Sherlock cleared his throat and closed his eyes, mentally preparing all the information in chronological order to be spoken aloud.

"It all started a few weeks ago. I noticed some patterns forming in some unsolved cases of rape and GBH, I studied the time periods between each attack and the settings for each and started gathering data to see if I could solve the case. But the most interesting thing was that somewhere at each crime, a Shakespeare quote was left." Sherlock paused at the sound of a gasp from Eva.

"I love Shakespeare, it's a passion of mine!" Sherlock smiled and nodded.

"Mine too, in which case you can tell me where each quote is from at each scene. Okay, at the first rape scene, a typed note was left in the girls pocket. 'Your wives, your daughters, your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up the cistern of my lust.'" Eva beamed.

"Macbath. Spoken by Malcolm." Sherlock nodded again.

"And at the next rape scene, it was placed in her hand to give in to the police. 'If this law of nature be corrupted through affection, and that great minds, of partial indulgence to their benumbed wills, resist the same'."

"Ahhh, Troilus and Cressida. Talking about marriage." Sherlock felt another rush of gratitude at this near stranger, who now seemed to him worth so much of his time.

"Indeed. Now, both GBH cases were conducted when the victim was drunk. The first man had a message written on his arm in felt pen, 'Bethink yourself, wherein you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence, till some little time hath qualified the best of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.'" Eva thought for a second.

"King Lear, Edmund talking to Edgar." Sherlock nodded eagerly.

"Yes! And finally, he stepped it up a notch and the second GBH case ended in the quote being carved into the victim's stomach, it appeared with a dried up biro. It said, 'O, that the slave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.'" Eva laughed.

"Easy, Othello." Sherlock joined in her laughter.

"Correct again. So this was what I first observed. Now, he has stepped up a level and committed murder. The main deductions I can make is that the victim is a wealthy male. I should have more information tomorrow. The quote left was written on a £50 note that was stapled to the victim's forehead. It was from the Merchant of Venice. 'I thank my fortune for it, my ventures are not in one bottom trusted, nor to one place; nor is my whole estate upon the fortune of this present year: therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad.'. It's all very interesting. What do you think of the case Eva?" Sherlock watched Eva purse her lips.

"I think it is a great fortune for you to be able to work on it. It is certainly intriguing. The motive does not seem obvious, nor does it seem solitary. The offender clearly has good knowledge of the law and is highly intelligent. I should love to be kept updated on the case." Sherlock smiled triumphantly.

"And so you shall. Now, what was it that you've got hidden under your mattress?" Eva half smiled before looking at the clock on her bedside table.

"It's getting late, John will be wondering where you are. Maybe next time." Sherlock nodded, recognising the dismissal and knowing that Eva would open up to him in time. Sherlock stood and held out a hand.

"It was very nice to meet you Eva, I'll be sure to come back and check on you soon, as I'm sure John will as well. For now just… Stay safe. The world would receive a great loss if you were to go." Eva shook his hand lightly and Sherlock headed for the door. As he turned the handle he heard:

"Sherlock?" Sherlock turned his head and watched Eva bite her lip and hesitate slightly. Sherlock watched in disappointment as she sighed.

"Say hi to John for me okay?" Sherlock smiled and nodded before retreating from the room, now that he was alone in the drab corridors, the memories overwhelmed him and he rushed to the elevator, feeling the tension inside him grow…

John paced the kitchen with his tea. Where was he? If they were getting along then he supposed that was good but what could they have to talk about, in all seriousness? John heard the front door go and feigned nonchalance. Sherlock strode into the living room and began removing his outdoor clothing.

"Hey, how is Eva?" Sherlock smiled and plopped down onto the sofa, closing his eyes peacefully.

"She's doing alright… I have plans to go back and visit her again actually." John's eyes widened. He set his tea down on the counter and went to sit beside Sherlock, leaning in against him.

"Really? What did you two have to talk about?" Sherlock smirked and kissed the top of John's head.

"Oh, this and that. She's very bright, I like talking to her. She asked me to say hi." John smiled, he liked Eva's company as well, he thought she was a very lovely young lady and that she had just been dealt a bad set of cards.

"Yes, she could have gone far in the world." Sherlock cracked an eye open and looked down.

"Who says she still can't? I have high hopes for her, once her therapy is finished." John nodded.

"I suppose you're right. I guess there's just something so final about mental asylums. They're like prisons, it seems like you'll never escape." John felt Sherlock's entire body tense underneath him and looked up in concern.

"What is it Sherlock? What is it you aren't telling me?" Sherlock gulped and looked away, John reached out to take hold of Sherlock's hand and rubbed the back of it lightly with his thumb. Sherlock sighed deeply.

"Okay John, I'll tell you but please, don't make a big deal of it. I've never told anyone about this before. During my teenage years, I spent quite a bit of time in and out of mental asylums myself. That's why I don't like them, it brings back horrible memories for me." John's mouth dropped open and he sat up, keeping hold of Sherlock's hand.

"But why?" Sherlock looked incredibly pained talking about the subject but John felt it was better for him to talk about it all now than revisiting the subject later.

"Because I wasn't Mycroft. I didn't display my genius the way Mycroft did. Mycroft would do IQ tests and extra subjects at school and stay late to practise chemistry. But I preferred to test out my own hypothesis, test the limits of my genius and it often got me into trouble… The doctors didn't know what to do with me. They couldn't patronise me like they did the other patients because I wasn't stupid. Everyone just thought I was mad because I did things differently to everyone else. Mycroft was the only person who knew I wasn't insane, and he came to visit me. But I resented him for so long because I felt like he should be in there with me, we were no different really. And so I have a problem with hospitals, I'm sorry I never told you sooner." John leant forward and kissed Sherlock softly.

"I'm really sorry Sherlock, I would never have mentioned it if I'd of known, it must have taken a lot for you to go there." Sherlock nodded stiffly.

"Well yes, but I'm trying a little thing called selflessness so I put my fears aside so that I could make someone else's' life a little better, and I know that Eva appreciates my effort so… I guess I'm glad I did it. Thank you for helping me face my fears John." John settled back down against Sherlock's side and felt an arm tighten around his waist.

"I'm just repaying the favour…"

**A/N:** Damn. This chapter ended up being a lot more waffley and rubbishy than I had previously planned. I'm really sorry! There was meant to be a sex scene in there but there just wasn't time. I will definitely get one in next chapter though! Please R&R because I know this wasn't my best, I just needed this chapter to introduce some of the concepts that will become major plotlines later on. Anyway, love to all my readers as always =)


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